The Storm
by Canon-Fire
Summary: While Harry raged and screamed with grief in Dumbledore's office, someone else did the same elsewhere.


*****Originally posted to livejournal many a moon ago.*****

When Harry left Dumbledore's office that night, he felt almost nothing. If he'd dug deeper than the merciless numbness permeating his mind and body, the strength and intensity of his anger and pain would have all too easily overwhelmed him. It had been as a single tear rolled down his Headmaster's face, that he had known he had run out of tirades to shout, accusations to make, or questions to ask. Dumbledore had let him go at last. He'd returned to Gryffindor tower unaware, that somewhere else in the castle, someone else was raging at a Master of Hogwarts, in agony at the death of the notorious felon, Sirius Black.

In Dumbledore's office, several of Harry's friends and a number of the Order of the Phoenix had been mentioned, all the while Harry did not think of another who might have shared his pain. His name had come and gone, but Harry, so lost in his own, mind numbing grief, did not give him a second thought.

He had Floo-ed to Hogwarts after Dumbledore, waiting only to ensure the Headmaster was gone before following behind. He did not go to quite the same place. Without touching his wand he blasted through the wards on the Potions Master's fireplace, bursting into the Dungeon Office.

Severus Snape had received word from Dumbledore from the Ministry. His unwitting charge had returned alive, as had all of the students and most of the other Members of the Order, but the boy's Godfather had not. It was, he thought, unfortunate, that another barrier between Potter and the Dark Lord had been slain. He had not wished Sirius Black dead, nor did he wish the loss of another parent figure on the boy, but saw both, most profoundly, as misfortunes to the Order's cause.

He paced the back wall of his office, waiting to see which of his Master's would call first. His wrist would burn or his fireplace would erupt, either way he would be called and given instructions. War was coming, the two greatest wizards of all time would be turning to him with orders within the hour. This knowledge monopolized his mind entirely and it was of vital importance that it should.

Had he given any thought though, to the aftermath of the death he had truthfully tried to prevent, his thoughts would not have been so drawn to Potter, as Dumbledore's had. He would have turned in mind rather, to the man who burst through his fireplace, just seconds after the wards told Snape that Dumbledore had returned to the school.

Lupin did not attack him, though his amber eyes blazed with a rage such as Snape had never seen before. He didn't touch his wand, or anything within the office, attempting no controlled, intentional magic nor display of muggle destruction. Jars of slimy creatures and plants, potions ingredients and shelves full of books smashed, exploded and flew across the room as Lupin stood still though, in front of the fire.

Snape made no move to immobilise him. He watched, with patience he would not have believed himself to possess, as the werewolf he'd driven out of Hogwarts two years earlier reduced his office to rumble, golden gaze never once leaving piercing black.

Books started to tumble out of the air mid flight, glass jars gradually only cracked, or fell rather ineffectively from their positions, rather than propelling themselves across the room. Lupin's shoulders slumped slightly, Snape watching silently as his chest heaved, ragged breath growing more audible, magical core burning out.

"He's dead." Lupin spoke flatly, voice sounding lost, under the crushed, numbed fury. Somewhere in the Castle above them, Harry was demanding Dumbledore let him out of the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore would politely refuse, until Potter had been told all he needed to know to sustain him. He would not understand of course, he would continue feeling owed by Dumbledore, but he'd know at last what Lupin never would again. That there was someone in the world who cared enough about him to protect not just his life, but his spirit too.

"I'm aware of it-"

"YOU DID IT! YOU LET HIM DIE YOU COULD HAVE STOPPED HIM!" Lupin roared without warning, fists clenching at his sides, prematurely lined face darkening in fury.

"I didn't-"

"You hated him! Even now, Azkaban broke him! He still couldn't just be miserable enough on his own for you!"

"Lupin-"

"YOU DIDN'T KNOW HIM! ALL THOSE YEARS YOU SPENT HATING HIM YOU NEVER KNEW WHAT HE WAS REALLY LIKE!"

"I don't-"

"Was this what you wanted? They're both dead now, are you happy?! You always wanted-"

Finally, Snape's already stretched patience reached it's end. He summoned Lupin's wand to him and had it pressed against the werewolf's throat before another word could escape him. Lupin didn't move, staring back at Snape blankly as he glared him down, fist balled in Lupin's robes, eyes just inches away from each other.

"Is _this, _what _you _want?" Snape snarled, green sparks shooting from the end of Lupin's wand.

"Is this your idea of dying another martyr, Lupin?"

He wanted to see fear in the other man's eyes. He wanted to see that Lupin's anger was real, or that knowing as he did, Snape would not kill him, but might well take pleasure in hurting him, that he ought to feel fear or to summon defiance. He watched Lupin's eyes trail drown to Snape's hand, him choking slightly on the wand tip being viciously forced into his windpipe. He watched as honest, open longing filled his gaze. He had never believed in a defeat so purely.

He lowered Lupin's wand immediately and gave it back to him, pressing it into his hand as the werewolf made no move to take it off him.

"Your life, is worth more than that, Lupin."

"Why? So many others are worth nothing." He replied, voice utterly void of feeling.

"I am not Lord Voldemort."

Lupin blinked, unaffected by the name, but alerted to Snape's use of it. He did not restart his tirade, but he looked at Snape with open hatred, though of whom, was not quite so clear.

"Sirius didn't deserve to die, Severus."

"Did someone else deserve to tonight? Or anyone else caught up in circumstances beyond our control, Diggory, Bertha Jorkins, Broderick Bode? Did they deserve to die more, because they were not the one last, pointless death you couldn't stand, Lupin?"

The werewolf was crying, he noticed. He wasn't making a sound, but tears began to dribble down his cheeks, even as he stared back at Snape uncomprehendingly. He didn't want to listen to this, to any of it, he wanted to hear either that he was right, in the form of regret, from Snape, or to feel vindicated, by hearing Sirius insulted, to give him something to defend, to continue to love.

Harry did not want to hear it either. Harry too, would turn to Snape for someone to blame and he too, would not want to hear the truth, kindly delivered by the Headmaster or brutally delivered by him. The difference between the two though, the adult and child, best friend and Godson, was that Lupin would listen. Lupin would not assume somehow, he knew better.

"You goaded him." Lupin stated, his tone one which may had been defiance, had he had it in him to feel. Once more above them, Harry relayed the same message to Dumbledore. Snape had goaded Sirius, there had to be a way he could be to blame.

"I dealt with him and he with me in the only way we knew how, Lupin, the path of our lives to this point. I'll leave it to you to decide whether Sirius Black died today in reckless defiance of a comment I made in a mutually spiteful exchange, or to protect his Godson. Was he, a grown man who spent twelve years in Azkaban and came out sane on the other side, just desperate to break out of Grimmauld Place, or did he go for the same reason you did. With the intent to risk and sacrifice his life, for the one person left in the world for whom he would willingly die."

Lupin was shaking convulsively. Snape felt he had said enough. More, perhaps, as the grief stricken werewolf did not wish to be told, there was someone more important than he. In ordinary circumstances, he would have hexed Lupin stupid for daring to break into his office, or at the very least, thrown him out without pause for a single word. He would make an exception, only, because he knew no one else that night would have Lupin in mind.

He almost didn't hear the strangled murmur, as he turned his back on Lupin and waited for him to leave. As the words of broken, empty apology sank in, he closed his eyes heavily. He heard the sound of a hesitant step backwards, Lupin turning back to the fireplace. He mumbled something, but Snape only caught a single word that time. _'Harry'_

"Lupin." He heard himself snapping, somewhat without his consent. He did not turn around as he spoke.

"I knew Sirius Black as an arrogant bully, a traitor and murderer, then a bitter, still arrogant felon. I did not wish him dead. If the world was split into dislikeable people and good people, life would undoubtedly be a much more straight forward entanglement, but it is not. We cannot force other people to see the world our way, we can only make our own path. Black did not break out of Azkaban until he knew Potter was in danger. He cared for you, Lupin, but he lived his years of freedom, such as they were, for the boy. Potter will spend the rest of his life knowing that, knowing he's experienced such depth of devotion. Not only will it shield him, it will, eventually, give him a way to handle his grief."

He turned to face Lupin at last, finding it hard to believe it was even him speaking. The werewolf was staring at him, utter incomprehension clouding his gaze.

"You're grieving, Lupin and it is complex, conflicted grief that a child cannot feel. Your anger is natural. You will master your grief with time, only, if you let yourself grieve. You lost one of your best friends. …There are many, many others, who will look after Harry."

Perhaps it was, as with Lord Voldemort, simply the name which reached Lupin. He was bruised and weary from the battle, trembling uncontrollably, then suddenly he was on his knees. Tears streamed down his cheeks, shoulders slumped, staring blankly at the cold stone floor of Snape's office. He was right, after all, it wasn't just Sirius. It was that he couldn't stand his friends' tale to end this way. One by one, they fell, to death or darkness. Sirius had been the one to come back. To lose him again, seemed a cruel fate indeed.

It was as Lupin broke down in front of his oldest enemy, Harry watched the headmaster shed a single tear. A few minutes passed by, in which Snape neither moved nor spoke. He could offer no comfort to the other man, nothing which was not merely pragmatism, or worse, pity. He had known Remus Lupin for long enough to know he did not want that. There was something to the silence between them though. Another day, he would no more have allowed the werewolf this outpouring of raw, open pain on his office floor than he would have cried for Sirius Black himself. Most probably had he caught him in the act elsewhere, he'd have scorned him. For that moment, he didn't look at him, did not intrude on his anguish in any way.

A green flame suddenly burst out of mid air in front of him, vanishing just as suddenly, leaving behind a single, golden feather. It was the white wizard then, who called him first. Undoubtedly his reprieve from the Death Eater's call, was down to Dumbledore too. The Dark Lord would not want his Hogwarts spy compromised at that point, just as his Nemesis and his greatest threat, both returned to Hogwarts, alive and vindicated.

Lupin had fallen still, watching the golden feather. He stemmed his tears for long enough to catch Snape's eye, a flash of understanding behind the misery so masterfully holding court there. He walked passed Lupin to the fireplace and flooed to Dumbledore immediately.

"Headmaster." Snape intoned, voice strained with conflict. He had known Dumbledore would not be kept away from Hogwarts for long, but was nevertheless hugely relieved to see him. Hogwarts was not a safe place without Dumbledore in it. Even Snape, carrying out the Headmaster's orders from afar, could not protect the students as he could. Trapped by his double agent role, he could not even prevent them being harmed in his presence.

Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, looking weary and old. Snape was not discouraged by this. Dumbledore _was _old and every one of his years added to his greatness. A moment of mental fatigue could be forgiven, when he'd spent the year trying to keep Sirius Black alive and Harry Potter happy in safe ignorance. To say his plan had gone awry seemed something of an understatement, Dumbledore did not like his plans failing. The old man spared Snape a warm, if grave look.

"Severus. I'm afraid we stand at that point again, great sadness with much needed progress."

Lily and James Potter were dead, but Voldemort had diminished. Black was dead, but Voldemort had been forced into the open. Snape felt his heart give a furious lurch at the comparison of the two. He recalled his own ruined form, sitting in the chair behind which he now stood, keening in anguish, while Dumbledore who had no cause at all to care, comforted him on the loss of the women whose death he had inadvertently caused. Another image came back to him, jarringly new, another broken man, weeping for a lost loved one, before a man he could not have expected to care. To Snape, perhaps, Black was not worth one hair on Lily's head. To others, though, he could have meant as much.

"Fudge has accepted Potter's story?"

"With great reluctance, yes."

"The boy knows the truth now?"

"With considerably less reluctance, yes."

Could he have brought about any other outcome, Snape wondered. Had he ignored the hatred he'd felt at Potter's invasion of his memories, could he have taught the boy the skills he'd needed to keep the Dark Lord out of his mind?

"You could not have prevented this, Severus." Dumbledore spoke quietly.

"Harry wanted to know what was in the Department of Mysteries, because I didn't tell him. The more questions I'd have answered for him, the less he'd have wanted to know."

"Headmaster, what do you need me to do?" Snape asked, softly. He was glad of Dumbledore's faith as always, but he was not so blind as to think Potter would not blame him. He suspected there would come a time when this was of significance to him. For now, he had work to do.

"You are aware Lord Voldemort will call, soon, you must go and ensure your position is absolute." Dumbledore instructed gravely, looking over his half moon glasses and Snape. He knew his words predicted a fall out, Snape stared back at him, expression grim, but unflinching. He would be called upon to estrange himself, before long, for the greater good.

"Yes, Headmaster." He replied, stoically.

"And your role here, may prove more vital than ever before." Dumbledore went on.

Snape gave a single, quick nod and did not reply. That role, he preferred not to discuss with anyone, including the only man alive who knew about it. Dumbledore gave the merest, rather saddened half smile at his wordless agreement, just as a searing, blinding, wave of agony swept through his left forearm, shooting up through his chest and throat, sending him staggering into the wall beside him.

"Severus-"

"Got-to-go-Dumb-le-dore…now." Snape spoke through gritted teeth, every nerve ending in his body wanting to disapparate. He couldn't, within the walls of Hogwarts, Voldemort knew this and would not expect him instantly. A summons so powerful though, gave him minutes, before his cover was ruined. He would have to Floo straight to Hogsmead and Apparate to the Dark Lord's side with no further delay.

"Thank you, Severus. Be careful, my boy. Leave nothing to chance."

Severus nodded almost feverishly, unable to speak through the pain, knowing it would get worse until he obeyed the summons. The protean charm, in Voldemort's gruesome interpretation, was more comparable to muggle drug addiction, than to any brand of sophisticated magic. His mind was fogging, he turned to the fireplace and was grateful when Dumbledore stood to assist him. His violently trembling limbs did not lend themselves to easy use of Floo powder.

In this simple act of consideration, something sparked in Snape's near intoxicated mind. His forced his expertly crafted shields into place, blocking out the pain and control Voldemort held over him, to allow himself to speak. Time was against him, but for one short pause it seemed a significant difference could be made. He turned back to Dumbledore at the fireplace.

"Albus, the boy has friends. Outside, he came to me, he will not attack you for telling him the truth."

Even the great mind of Albus Dumbledore, could not have fully understood his quick and breathless statement. He raised no questions though, his twinkling blue eyes meeting with Snape's and simply accepting. There were not many questions, after all, to which he could not discover the answer. The old man grasped a handful of Floo powder and cast it into the fire.

"The Hog's Head Inn, Hogsmead."

As Severus Snape vanished into green flames, a small frown line creased Dumbledore's wizened brow. He could not fail to interpret Severus' departing words as important, for he would not have lingered for anything less. 'The boy', could only refer to Harry, but Dumbledore was at a loss as to what exactly was meant by the rest of his statement. He thought of another student. Someone else who'd been hurt, who did not have the network of support around him Harry did. Someone who would never rage and scream at Dumbledore the way Harry had done.

Undoubtedly influenced by the discussion he'd just been having with Harry, Dumbledore's mind had jumped to Neville Longbottom within seconds of Snape's departure. For a moment it escaped his memory, that if Neville and the other students had even yet been returned to the school by the Order of the Phoenix, they were all most likely to be in the hospital wing. It would also have been a stretch of the greatest of imaginations, to think Neville would have gone to Severus Snape for anything.

The Headmaster's thought process was mostly along the lines of fairly absolute confidence he would have worked out Snape's mysterious comment in short order, however literal or cryptic it turned out to be. For that reason it was not particularly important he should forget minor details such as the comical idea of Snape being a confidant to Neville Longbottom. He turned to his office door, intending to speak to Minerva McGonagall, she would need informing of the incident at the Ministry immediately.

This, more than anything, he felt was a sign his generally brilliant mind was capable of seemingly simple oversights on occasion. It had not occurred to him for a moment, that by 'outside', Snape had meant he'd left the answer to his suddenly less than complex riddle, standing outside the door. As the office doorway cleared, Dumbledore stopped short. Standing leaning against the wall, staring at the floor, eyes red and bloodshot, stood the person Dumbledore would have thought _second_ least likely, to ever go to Severus Snape for help.

"Remus?"

Lupin looked up. His reddened eyes were bleary and lost, though he looked as though he wanted to be angry, but unable to maintain his ire, through his expression of utter defeat. As twinkling blue eyes met with darkened hazel, it was immediately clear to both men, the other did not know why they were there.

"Severus…told me to wait here…" Lupin murmured, gazing into Dumbledore's kindly face and wishing he knew why he was there too. Snape had merely instructed him to follow, when he left to answer the Headmaster's summons. He'd done so obediently, wearied by his fit of pique and pain, no longer feeling able to question the Potions Master in his calm, decisive actions.

As Dumbledore watched the young werewolf, standing with the stoop, scars and weariness of a man at least twice his age, understanding flooded through him as it had not for a very long time. He could have guessed forever at whom Severus might have been referring too and still overlooked the possibility that Sirius' best friend, might too be in need of comfort.

Severus was absolutely right, he didn't have friends, in the way Harry did. He'd just watched the last of those die. He didn't know the whole truth, the circumstances which had led to the Order's presence at the Ministry being necessary, nor did he seem likely to smash Dumbledore's office to pieces, if he did not like what he heard.

More than that though, he was the quiet, steady, ever polite and calm one, the man whose grief would be overlooked by all, because he would not wear it for the world to see. Lupin would be one of the many, there for Harry in the long run. It seemed the most unlikely turn of events imaginable, that in the instant pain overwhelmed him, stripping the werewolf of his ever present mask, it would be his oldest rival, who knew he just needed what Harry could not yet accept.

"Come inside, Remus." Albus spoke softly.

Lupin followed him numbly. He dimly recalled the last time he had sat in that office. He'd been in agony, barely able to sit still through the pain in his joints and muscles. For the first time in almost a year, he'd endured the werewolf transformation without the aid of the Wolfsbane Potion. Madam Pomfrey had patched him up as best she could, not well, his being the wounds of a werewolf, albeit self inflicted. Dumbledore had shielded him from Ministry action and finally, Severus Snape had spared him the natural course of the curse upon his job. Remus had gone straight to Dumbledore and resigned. He'd sat in the very chair into which the old man guided him now, aching from head to toe, but knowing he was resolved to leave immediately.

As he sat there once more he recognised he was again, in agony, but he was resolved to nothing. He could feel, absolutely nothing, beyond an aching, throbbing sense of loss and guilt so profound he felt sure he would soon drown in it.

"I'm so sorry, Remus, I know how you must feel…"

When Harry had heard those words, he had lashed out at his Headmaster blindly, hating the notion anyone could possibly understand pain so fierce. Remus understood, Harry was still a child in so many ways. Perhaps an adult could not truly understand the depth of pain a child could feel.

Remus felt no such anger. Did he know what it was like to leave the school he'd believed as a child he would never get to, with four of the best friends he could ever ask for, happier than he'd though possible, but in the calm before a dark and terrible storm? Did he know what it felt like, to watch his world fall apart in one night, to lose every friend he had? To watch, stunned, twelve years later, as one of his lost friends returned, scarred, but loyal to the end. Only to lose him too. Twice, he'd failed to stand between Sirius and the reckless defiance which got him thrown into Azkaban, then killed. He'd thought nothing could ever hurt like that night, fourteen years previously.

"I-I…couldn't tell him, it was like nothing changed…"

Dumbledore only watched him, sympathy in his eyes for a moment, until it became clear he did not know what to say.

"Nothing had changed since Sirius was send to Azkaban, you mean?"

Remus nodded, eyes on the floor, as if ashamed.

"There is no shame in that, Remus. If in the light of his innocence you could care for him as you did fourteen years ago, that is a credit to you both."

"But I never told him." Remus blurted out, tears starting to trickle once more in his despair. After so many years, he'd allowed Sirius to reclaim his former role in Remus' life. He'd grieved for him once, but let him back in. Only as he'd watched Sirius falling through the veil, had he realized he'd opened his heart so completely, that once more he'd felt the pain of that long flown Hallowe'en reopen, grief run anew.

"Sirius was a very clever man. It would have taken nothing more than the risk to your job, your reputation, your life even, to find out the truth when you taught here, to tell him your old friendship remained intact."

Remus looked up once more, into the saddened blue eyes of his former Headmaster, sheer despair balling in his chest. He didn't want to have to explain anymore, there was so much he hadn't said to Sirius, so much he had not said in return, but most of all, so much he hadn't been able to do. He had not protected James and Lily, stopped their betrayer murdering innocent people, nor prevented an innocent man being sentenced to life imprisonment. In the end, he had not prevented a scarred, desperate friend from throwing away his life in one last rash, reckless act of loyalty. Perhaps he should not have done, but he could not escape the pain.

"I-I…just, didn't want to lose him again. _Not like that-We had no time…" _

Remus heard his voice cracking, words fading out as the fading remnants of his strength ebbed into nothingness. His shoulders drooped, head lowering on his arms, coming to rest on Dumbledore's desk, tears streaming anew. The older wizard stood up and rounded his desk, sitting down beside the werewolf and gripping his shoulders firmly.

He could feel the younger man trembling, even as he tried to hold him still. He was no longer making much sound, only his quickened breathing and the soft, keening moan of despair rippling through him. Harry needed to blame someone, to feel anger and hate, the same passion which gave him his deadly weapon, power the Dark Lord knew not. He would not accept comfort, which would dampen his ever burning impassioned flame. Remus had no need, nor ability, to summon such fire. He just needed someone to see through his polite, mild mannered façade, for once, while he mourned for the loss of his last best friend, whom life had never seen fit to offer justice.

"Sirius cared about you greatly, Remus." Dumbledore soothed gently. "You may not have had the time to say everything you might have liked to, but don't think that he was unmindful of your friendship. Sirius was angry with me and before long, with most of the Order for never noticing, while using his house freely, just how hard the last year has been on him. You did."

Remus shuddered convulsively, falling quiet at last as he cried silently, but listening, unmistakably.

"It would have been understandable, had Sirius no longer been able to commit himself to serving the Order, but that he did so told me very clearly, some things had not changed for him. He felt gratitude beyond what I think you know, for how much you risked for him in your year here at Hogwarts. You had both lost and suffered so much, you may not have been able to feel the same bond of friendship you remembered from your younger years. Understand it was still there, Remus, stronger even, for your ability to put twelve estranged years behind you almost instantly, when you realized Peter Pettigrew was still alive."

_"I-I went after Harry." _Remus choked, unwilling to claim heroism on Sirius' part for his irresponsible flee from his office after the three Gryffindors.

"Yes, but when you got there you risked all three of the children cursing you, to give Sirius time to explain. You are too hard on yourself, Remus. Severus told me what happened, you risked being handed to the Dementors yourself, trying to convince him to listen to Sirius."

For every contradiction, every shred of irrational guilt and shame Remus felt for Sirius' death, Dumbledore could tell him he deserved none. His evidence was compelling, but it was more the quiet caress in his voice, the gentle hands on his shoulders, which eventually quieted all protest the werewolf could muster. Remus thought it was his time, most of all though, which mattered. Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore must both, surely, have more important things to do at a moment such as that, than comfort or humour a washed up old werewolf, buckling under pressure.

Albus' attention was indeed needed elsewhere. He gave the werewolf's shoulders a last, reassuring squeeze, before easing him back in his seat gently, looking down into bloodshot amber eyes, which gazed up at him obediently.

"You have to go." He spoke quietly, voice an even more hoarse than usual, whisper.

"I'll go back to headquarters." He assured the headmaster at once, starting to stand without waiting to hear an answer.

Dumbledore raised a staying hand, gazing silently back at Remus until he lowered himself back into his chair. His quick, unassuming understanding was honestly meant, Albus could see he was not looking for further sympathy. He smiled fondly at the younger man, remembering the first time he'd sat before him in that office. He'd been tiny for his age, growth stunted by his curse, excruciatingly shy, but smart and curious. There had been a grim determination and fierce pride in his nod, as he'd agreed to the precautions which would protect him and his fellow students through his time at Hogwarts. Not, that in the end, he had been quite so obedient. Albus had been amused to discover it, after the fact. After all, even the truly brilliant Ms Granger, had an interesting knack for knowing when rules needed to be broken. For the greater good, or to show they were all children really, even the occasional wolf cub amongst them. A child's curiosity was there to be unquenchable.

"I'm not going anywhere, I do, however, need to get to work. I must draft a plan of action for the Ministry now. They will most probably ignore it, but while they are busily insisting they do not need our help, some of the finer points may sink in at least." Albus told Remus calmly. He was relieved to see Remus looked back at him wearily, gaze still lost and confused, but that same, grimly determined comprehension shining dimly through.

"I want you to stay here tonight, Remus. The Order will not yet be able to return to Head Quarters. We do not know who currently owns it, after all."

At that, a fresh trail of tears snaked their way down Remus' pale cheeks, but he ignored them, nodding slowly.

"I can go home, I don't need to be in your way-"

"You will not be, Remus, I'm asking you to stay, just for tonight."

He did not explain his reasons and Remus did not ask. History seemed to suggest though, that keeping an eye on grief stricken Marauder's, was a good idea. In truth, Harry seemed the more likely of the two to go looking for revenge, but Remus would consider himself expendable, whereas Harry knew all too well, the whole of the Order would go after him if he did. Remus would also have a much better chance of finding Bellatrix Lestrange. He didn't look like a man in search of revenge, he looked simply crushed. Albus did not think either made for a man it was advisable to let wander home alone.

He had intended to have the house elves make up the once more vacated defence quarters for Remus, but it did not prove necessary. He Floo-Called Poppy Pomfrey just to check him over, given the battle. The Hogwarts Healer fussed for several minutes, during which Remus flushed red, staring at his hands clasped in his lap, but she could find nothing physically wrong with him. He'd been one of the few Order members and DA students, who had not been hit by a single curse.

"He's in shock, Albus." Poppy spoke rather fiercely. Remus opened his mouth to protest, but couldn't seem to summon the energy. Instead he mused silently that Poppy sounded as though Albus was personally responsible. The thought amused him for a fleeting moment, until he realized he was almost smiling and conceded Poppy might have a point in her diagnosis.

"Perfectly understandable." Albus smiled at him, eyes twinkling. Remus felt oddly certain he'd read his mind.

Poppy produced a pale blue potion, which Remus eyed apprehensively. It showed how badly his reactions were slowed though, when as he wearily opened his mouth to ask what it was and refuse to take it regardless, Poppy poured half of it down his throat.

She watched grimly as Remus lurched forward, spluttering indignantly.

"Poppy!" He gasped, torn between anger and astonishment. Even as he spoke, he felt a tingling, lightening sensation sweep over him, as though all the pain taking precedent in his mind was moving backwards, allowing exhaustion to come to the fore. He sat back in his chair, breathing slowly and deeply, his eyes starting to flicker shut.

He was not losing consciousness. Even as his eyes closed he remained awake and dimly aware of his location and surroundings, he was simply tired and calmed enough to not want to react to any of it. It was as though his body had decided to deal with his feelings another time. They remained there, but oddly detached, as though for the time being, they did not precisely belong to him.

"Ah." Albus commented quietly, as it became clear his office would be occupied for the night, lest he levitated his former Defence professor to more suitable quarters.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Albus, it doesn't normally work so quickly." Poppy told him, watching Remus, eyes full of concern.

"Then we may safely conclude, it was most warranted, thank you Poppy." Albus replied with a mirthless smile.

"Here we are…" He continued genially, waving his wand and causing the chair in which Remus was dosing to transfigure itself into a squashy looking recliner. Remus immediately rolled onto his side and curled up in a ball, but made no other sign he had even noticed.

Albus watched him quietly for a minute or so, pondering the unhappy parallel, of a child with an adult's rage and detachment, against an adult with a childlike need for validation. It was almost fitting, for the loss of Sirius. He'd been a man of great passion and fire, but whose most keenly undeserved time in Azkaban had left him with the haunted experience of a man twice his age and the emotional maturity of the twenty one year old who had first been locked within those walls.

When morning shone through the high windows of the Hogwarts Headmaster's office, Remus was already awake, sitting staring up into the bright blue sky.

Another day he might have been uncomfortable, or even amused, by the unusual scene to which he'd woken up. That morning though, he merely gazed at his former Headmaster, who had fallen asleep at his desk. He was snoring softly, although it was morning he could not have been asleep long. His Phoenix, Fawkes, was sitting on his desk, trying to tug the sealed parchment out from under his head, presumably so that he could deliver it to it's intended recipient.

Remus got up silently and padded out of the office, in search of a bathroom. His mind felt clearer, his heart somehow heavier. He no longer wanted to blame someone else, or himself, he simply ached to go back a few hours and stop Sirius falling through the veil. Stupid, really, Sirius had not expected to live through the first war. Life had treated him unfairly, it was true, but he had died proudly in battle, protecting the Godson he should have lost fourteen years earlier. James and Lily, Frank and Alice Longbottom, countless other wizards and Muggles alike had been far less fortunate.

Sirius, would certainly have thought so. All Remus had to do then, was be as brave and brilliant as Sirius and he'd be fine. As that did not seem to be on the cards, the morning light brought a colder light of determination. The Order needed him, he would battle on. Harry would have no choice, after all. Remus was certainly not going to lose it to grief after so long.

As he returned to Dumbledore's office, elsewhere in the castle, Harry sat with his injured friends, those of Dumbledore's Army who had come to his aid. Dumbledore was rudely awoken by Fawkes setting his hat on fire to get him out of the way, just as the fireplace burst into life too, to reveal Severus Snape, returning to his real master. Remus stood in the doorway, utterly bemused.

Dumbledore sat up, eyes darting sharply to Severus, awaiting news and perhaps, a flicker of a search to see if he was alright. Severus stepped out of the fire place, sparing Remus a glance as he did, before turning to the headmaster and quirking an eyebrow.

"Aguamenti." He spoke softly, pointing his wand at Dumbledore. Albus blinked as he was suddenly doused under a powerful jet of water. Steam rose from his charred hat, while Fawkes took off through the open window, parchment clutched in his fiery claws.

"Ah, thank you Severus."

"The Dark Lord strictly forbids me to inform you, the boy's mother's charm is as powerful as ever."

"Well then, I fully understand you not doing so. I presume you also cannot tell me then, whether he has now closed the connection between himself and Harry?" Albus enquired, his blue eyes twinkling.

"No, headmaster, I cannot reveal the Dark Lord has done that." Severus replied, no hint of a smile on his face.

"Most unfortunate, that would have been useful information indeed."

Any other day, Remus would surely have been unable to prevent himself laughing at this bizarre exchange. It would have been easy, that day, to feel anger. How could they joke so tastelessly, after what had happened at the Ministry? But Severus Snape lived on a knife edge. A role Remus would never dare take on and possessed nothing like the skill required to do so. He could hear the quiet strain behind his words, the lifeline which talking freely with Dumbledore at least, gave him, when he led the life of a double agent to everyone else in his world.

"Headmaster, I'm going to return home now." Remus spoke up in the moment of quiet to follow.

"Thank you, for listening to me, I'm sorry I fell asleep in your office."

Albus turned to him, eyes still sparkling brilliant blue.

"No trouble at all, Remus. As I seem to have imprudently done so myself, I assure you, no harm done at all."

Remus offered him a watery smile, before crossing over to the fireplace.

"You'll know where to find me?" He asked, turning back, Floo powder in hand.

"Of course, my boy, I'll be in touch shortly. I'm certain the rest of the Order will be too."

Remus nodded, turning his head slowly to face Severus, unsure what to say. Swallowing the lump threatening to rise once more in his throat, he held out his hand. He did not really expect Severus to accept. For all of his help, the two had long disliked each other.

Severus' dark eyes bored into his, expression inscrutable. He never thought he'd be pleased to see, something of the werewolf's usual mask had fallen back into place. He raised his hand and shook it, noticing a small smile tugging the corner's of Remus' mouth, as though he took, was thinking back to the year before. Severus had not appreciated being forced to shake hands with Sirius. Then again, he did not suppose Sirius did either.

"Thank you, Severus." Remus near whispered. He turned and stepped into the fire quickly, Severus suspected to save him having to answer, rather than because he himself was uncomfortable. He paused before dropping his handful of Floo powder, giving a warm, if saddened, smile to Dumbledore, and a nod of grateful accord to Severus.

A moment of grace, then, Severus thought as he watched the werewolf disappear into bright green flames, a moment to be granted, but forgotten. There was a storm coming.


End file.
